


Beatrice

by gerbilfluff



Category: Wreck-It Ralph (Movies)
Genre: Gross, I'm Sorry, Other, Pimple Popping, Zit fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 06:54:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16781881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gerbilfluff/pseuds/gerbilfluff
Summary: THE INTERNET DOESN'T WANT YOU TO KNOW!Where does Double Dan get the funding to make his viruses?~*~ CLICK HERE! ~*~(I’m not ashamed, but I apologize anyway.)





	Beatrice

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING for... everything. This one gets gross, folks. This is ME, saying something is gross.
> 
> This was what I couldn’t get out of my head after seeing Wreck-It Ralph 2: Where does Double Dan get the funding to make his viruses?
> 
> Well, here’s my answer. You’re welcome. :3

Beatrice

by gerbilfluff

"Mmmm. That's it, luv. Drink it all up," Dan croons, low and sultry.

  
He lifts his hand from the can of bacon grease he keeps under the counter of his workbench for just these sort of discoveries, nudging away his apron to rub and knead another dollop over the reddened pimple starting to bead from upon his left side. "Nice and thirsty for it, aren't you."  
  
He licks his lips in anticipation as he massages the whitish smears deeper into puffy, earthworm-pale skin, remarking, "Now, let's see. What are we going to call you?"  
  
Dan turns to the monitor that's giving this side of his workshop its sickly green glow. A few clicks, and he's scanning down with his finger for his top Patreon donor this month. He taps the screen with an "Ah..." where he finds the request-- _Beatrice, after my bitch grandma, lol._  
  
"Beatrice," Dan says to the pimple, nodding formally, like they've just been introduced. He repeats the name, rolling it around in his mouth, tasting it, before slathering another layer of grease in a circular motion over the pustule, burying it within a mound of glistening fat.  
  
"That's right, Beatrice darling. Can't wait until you're ripe for some fun. Grow nice and big for us, now." He presses his fingers into the doughy skin around it, squeezing his emphasis. "I want you _huge_. And _angry_."  
  
He blows a kiss down to his side and waggles a parting wave with one hand, adding in a lusty half-growl, "I want you bloody FURIOUS."  
  
And with that, he puts his gloves back on and lowers his safety goggles over his eyes again, turning back to the gleaming, kitten-shaped Trojan he was welding together before his newest find distracted him. He cranes his head to glance as best he can at his neck. Dan Junior's been dozing peacefully through the entire massage.  
  
Good. The little tyke gets so upset by Dan's temporary additions to the family, sometimes-- wailing and carrying on like a faulty squeak toy at the sight, like he's in danger of being replaced.  
  
Or maybe his little brother's jealous of the attention he gives them?  
  
Dan fires up his blowtorch, and decides not to think about that. Bit weird. Even for him.  
  
\-------  
  
He's awoken in the night by tiny, mournful huffs and cries of pain from Dan Junior.  
  
"Easy, now, easy," Dan soothes the growth at his neck. "What's the trouble?"  
  
"Too big," squeaks the little face with a shudder, trying to press back within Dan's neck folds. "Hurts."  
  
Dan lifts his arm on his left side, stopping to carefully peel away the sticky sheets that come up with him-- and snorts in disbelief, lips curving to a thin slice of a grin to see such progress after only a couple days of his special massages. Beatrice's white-peaked head sags plump and leaking from the center of an infected, bruisy pink mound, swollen out from the skin around it, heaving with potential.  
  
"Oh, you're ready, all right..." Dan says, before slinking out from the cocoon of blankets the pair call a bed to find Dan Junior his breakfast juice box. "Hang tight, little fella. Won't be long now."  
  
Soon, Dan's locking the outer door to the Dark Net marketplace, calling out to his empty workshop, _"Gordon..!"_  
  
He turns around, and there his cousin is, as quiet and unblinking as only a creepypasta in training can be. "Got another show to put on today," Dan gloats, proudly lifting his arm to let Beatrice wobble.  
  
Gord's pupils dilate wider, in what Dan's come to recognize in context as delight. One thin, silent arm snakes upwards, clutching a camcorder.  
  
\-------  
  
Yesss's voice is ringing flat today, as she flicks through the latest uploads at her desk. "Boring." Swipe. "No." Swipe. "Seen it." Swipe. "Ugh. Newgrounds called, it's missing your joke." Swipe.  
  
"Excuse me. Yesss?" Maybe's prim voice pipes up from a short ways away. He's pinching the corner of the rectangular screen he's holding, letting it dangle, his nose crinkled. "We've just received another submission from dantheman2k. Which was, of course, immediately flagged."  
  
"Oh, _him?_ The one who names all the zits he pops?" Yesss perks up with morbid interest. "What've we got this time? Did he finally trip over the Terms of Service?"  
  
"Exactly why I'm requiring your attention," Maybe explains. He swishes his hand over the screen, flicking EPIC PIMPLE POP 38 - YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT THIS ONE'S HIDING to land upright on Yesss's desk. "There's a... I'm not sure what it is... visible at 3:42 for a moment. Is it anything you'd consider phallic, or otherwise obscene in nature? For once, I can't tell."  
  
Yesss squints closer at the corner of the screen where the video's paused. Rewinds back a few seconds. Presses Play.  
  
Another runny geyser of pus splats across the screen, freshly coating the thick, meaty fingertips squeezing tight from around the edges. _"That's it, you dirty bint, cough it up, cough it all up--"_  
  
Just as another curl of cheesy yellow discharge blorts free from the center to an _"ohhh...!!"_ of relief, the camera swivels, giving a glimpse of...  
  
She pauses it again. Rewinds. "What IS that?" Yesss zooms in. "Looks like another zit." She frowns, squirming in her chair. "With... eyes."  
  
"Ah. Meaning I'm not the only one who thought so," nods Maybe. "Then aside from general disturbing content, some brief foul language, and what are very possibly masturbation sounds coming from off-camera... he's flying just under an obvious obscenity claim, as always... I believe there to be no ToS violations here. Shall I release it?"  
  
"Go ahead," Yesss signals with a wave of her palm. Her outfit dulls from its sparkliness for a moment as she heaves a sigh. "You know _this_ one's gonna be trending within the hour, too, right?"  
  
"Indeed," Maybe says, sending the video screen back into the Buzzztube system with a flick of his glowing hand. "I do wish this fellow would just take his business to XTube already. He _must_ realize he'd have an audience there."  
  
"But not one he can get the big Buzzzy bucks from," Yesss notes, rubbing her fingertips together. She shrugs. "Gotta say, I admire the guy's ingenuity. Not that many zit porn tycoons out there, gaming the system. I just wonder what he spends it all on."  
  
Within minutes, the largest screen outside Yesss's office is awash in pink and red and oozing white.  
  
_"--There we are. Now, who have we here? This... is Beatrice. Gorgeous bit of tart, ain't you, luv? And she'd like to put on a little show for you all today..."  
_  
One of the first couple heart collectors on the stage goes rigid at the sight of fingertips starting to brace themselves around... _that_. "Hoo boy. Keep your eyes on the audience for this one. Trust me," he cautions the other collector, as the viewers start lobbing heart after heart at the screen, faces frozen in excited-looking EWWW poses.  
  
"Amazing," Yesss says, shaking her head at the growing crowd below. "He may be disgusting, but this guy sure has found a niche and filled it." Her mouth tightens to a line at the grunts of passion soon coming from the main stage's screen. "Loudly."

"You know, sometimes I long for the days of 'Where Do Your McNuggets Come From'," Maybe remarks, rolling his eyes behind his glasses as the view counter ticks up, and up, and up...


End file.
